


Born Upside Down

by DreadPirateRoberts



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: BlackStar - Freeform, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 03:32:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10654020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreadPirateRoberts/pseuds/DreadPirateRoberts
Summary: Sarah reigns as the new queen of the goblin kingdom, but a preacher to the west threatens to disrupt her new eden.Or, a pseudo-Labyrinth sequel as inspired by the music video for David Bowie's Blackstar.





	Born Upside Down

**Author's Note:**

> So this is super pretentious. 
> 
> I adore the Blackstar video and wanted to see how I could twist it to be a sequel to Labyrinth. For what it's worth, I think the video's probably more connected to the Major Tom saga than anything else, but there are some fascinating visual cues that reminded me of the film so I thought I would have some fun. But yeah, super pretentious and try-hard. Enjoy!

The women kneeled and smiled.

All the women of past wishes, the burgeoning young women troubled by the mysteries of adolescence, clinging to the vestiges of their innocence, those who made a careless demand and suffered the consequences. Some had made their way through the labyrinth, through hardships untold and come out the other end victorious; others remained. Not always by choice, but what did it matter in the end? They were there, and so they kneeled.

Sarah had journeyed through as a child, and escaped on her own terms. He had no power over her, so she said, repeating it until the mantra had become tattooed on her brain. Even the strongest of promises fade over time, and soon, as the mundane realities of her life overwhelmed her, Sarah found herself craving power of a different kind. The rites of passage afforded to women such as her held no sway: A useful education, a sturdy job and a content marriage with children who could one day hear her stories and know that was all they were. No, not for her, it would simply be imprisonment by another name.

And so she made the wish, but the journey back revealed new truths.

The labyrinth now in decay, its denizens all but gone, and its master with them. The fantastical of her past replaced by darkness, and its only residents those who had made the same journey as her, but found themselves without direction or ambition.

Yes, she thought, this place has astounding possibilities.

They were all women, young and hopeful, eyes dimmed by immeasurable time spent in the labyrinth, but not all of them were of Sarah’s world. One beauty, impish smile and swaying tail, had come seeking her fortune, travelling through the caverns of the celestial and bringing with her a skull of jewels and gold. She found him like that, she said, in the suit of a spaceman, just waiting for her. For a long time, the girls treated it as their deity, a masculine force in a world seemingly devoid of it. That was until Sarah turned up, seemingly commanded by their god, and so they all stood aside and let Sarah take charge. She had been there before and knew the secrets, the tunnels, the stench and the dreams. To the castle at the centre of the labyrinth she led them, and they obediently followed her demands, helping to bring life back. Former residents returned – familiar faces who remained hopeful – but one figure eluded Sarah’s sight.

Where is the king, she asked her old friend Hoggle, who never dropped his apologetic tone with her.

Gone, he simply told her. The power had left him, and so he left the labyrinth.

Sir Didymus didn’t believe that. He talked of prophets and lost boys, those who couldn’t leave and those who stayed. He said he heard rumours of a preacher to the west, but had never ventured out alone. They may have just been rumours, but such things had a habit of turning true in this world.

The labyrinth flourished under Sarah, driven by her confidence and vision. No longer would her realm be one of abduction and trickery. This was a place of hope, one of safety for those who lacked a space to call their own. Dreams were woven and fables told in the other world, spreading the message of the merciful queen and the shelter she offered to women stripped of their lives. The queen would come to them, but only if they wished for the goblins to come and take them away. Right now.

But then she heard of the missing child, and his hysterical little sister who had only been joking in her wish, she swore, and then the blind man took him away from her.

Sarah knew instantly.

He was alive, and he was questioning her power.

She journeyed to the west, bringing her core women and her loyal friends. Soon the land became unfamiliar, blossoming into fields of golden corn and skies of cobalt blue straight from a painting. Shadowy figures scuttled through the sheaths, trailing them as they made their way to the old house. In a different light, with her eyes closed, Sarah would have sworn it was the house of her childhood, but that couldn’t be.

The boys didn’t stop them. They merely stared incredulously at the women, soft and unfamiliar to them, as the resplendent queen made her way to the attic. Other boys twitched and shook, entranced by a voice that preached with familiar tones. A redheaded toddler watched in awe from the floor, unaware of the pain his absence had caused his family in the other world. They barely noticed as she strode past, stopping before him.

Even now, older and greyer, he was still so very handsome. She didn’t need to see his eyes to know that. The old kind had made himself blind to the world with dirty bandages and ominous buttons. He knew she was there, of course, but he kept on message, grinning with maniacal glee as he talked of stars and angels. In his hand, he held a ragged book, a solitary black star on the cover, and held it above him like the most sacred of texts.

Sarah could only watch for a while, admittedly hypnotised by the spectacle unfolding. Time had been strange to Jareth, etched on his face but not on his frame, which moved with the same fluidity she thought of too often. The boys around him twitched to his rhythm, until he suddenly stopped, and stood painfully still. The tension proved unbearable for Sarah, and she unmasked the old king. His eyes seemed brighter than ever, uneven and all knowing. He smiled at her, and she could not help but return the gesture.

The peace ended then. She had come to take back the boy he had stolen, the boy he had no right to and in the realm he no longer had authority over. His boys threatened to revolt, but they were no match for the power of her women. They kneeled before her but Jareth remained defiant. He lacked his old powers but he still held sway in his kingdom, he told her. They’d been born upside down, born the wrong way round, and he sought to rectify the problem. He had followers, just like him, and they would ensure the realignment of the old ways.

No, she told him, with a sad smile. Remember, you have no power over me. You never did and you never will. This was no longer his realm. The age of kings was over, and the time of the queen was one of mercy, and so she offered him an ultimatum. Right his wrongs and do as she said, and he would live well in her shadow; remain defiant and suffer the consequences.

She knew he would never obey her. It wasn’t in his nature, he was too used to ruling, and he could never truly accept defeat, even from an old foe like her.

She had no choice, and so the punishment was made.

Amidst the fields of wheat, Jareth was strung to the cross, stuffed like a scarecrow and blinded by his mask. He still sang as they left him and his remaining disciples there, but this song was well known to Sarah and her dreams. His punishment must be final, she told her women, for the children of our old worlds cannot be put at risk anymore. While he lives, their futures remain at stake.

The tailed girl smiled, and brought out their old god.

Sarah lit the candle and held the skull up high, watching, as if instructed, as the women morphed into a dance of ritual and mania, swaying across the sand and bowing at her feet, summoning the spirit. None of them saw it, but they felt its presence in the goosebumps up their spine and the static in their ears. Sarah didn’t see it, nor did she see her old king’s descent into madness, haunted by the apparition that would be his doom, but she felt that too. It was like a burn across her skin no water could salve; a twisting in her heart that knocked the breath from her chest. It was the loss of an old friend, a foe, a master and a monster, one that she’d mourn forever.

The ritual ended, and the women stood up, unembarrassed by their dance, and organised the journey back to the labyrinth. The little boy was sent home, and Sarah watched from her crystals the tearful family reunion. The boys who remained pleaded to join her, and she could not say no. Everyone needed a home, and so they joined the party. Leaving the old house, she turned to the fields, and saw the trio of crosses, empty but for the buttoned mask that remained hooked to the central mast. He had been taken away, never to return.

The candle burned on.

 

 


End file.
